Creative Writing

A couple of blogging friends of mine, Eisor and Coldbrain are the creative types. They both do creative writing. Generally, I am not a creative type. I am a scientist, I ask questions, and like finite answers to questions. The concept of being creative is generally alien to me. Anyway, having been slightly cyber-bullied, being the kind of person that likes to expand horizons, and having nothing to do on the train for the last couple of mornings, I did some writing.

I think I was thinking along the lines that this is the first chapter of some kind of magnus opus. They say everyone has a novel in them. This may well be the first Dan Brown-sized chapter of mine.

The incessant buzzing of the intercom brought Mike back to life. That’s not to say that Mike had been dead. The way he felt right now, he suspected most doctors would not have described his previous state as sleep, unconsciousness probably. Maybe even comatose.

The intercom was still buzzing.

Every buzz of the intercom made his head throb. He’d have to make it stop. He pulled his heavy body off the sofa and walked over to the grill of the intercom and pressed the button to communicate with the person doing the buzzing.

“Whoever you are, will you please stop pressing that fucking buzzer.”

The buzzing stopped. It did not really help his headache. Something else was making his head hurt, and he was pretty sure he would need to be horizontal again to make it go away.

“Finally! What the fuck have you been up to? I’ve been buzzing you for nearly an hour.” Said a familiar voice through the intercom static.

“Mate, I’ve been asleep, what do you think I’ve been doing, it’s the weekend and it’s the bloody morning.” Mike pressed the unlock button on the intercom, put the front door of his flat on the latch and returned to a horizontal position on the sofa.

Jeff came bounding in, his usual chirpy self.

“Sorry mate, thought you’d be up already.”
“Well obviously I’m not, it was a pretty heavy night list night. Have you been out there buzzing for an hour? I must have been fucking wasted last night to sleep through that.”
“Nah, I buzzed for ten minutes then went to the café for breakfast, figured you were still busy with your lady.”
“What lady?” Mike interrupted.
“What! Jees man you must have been plastered. The lady you brought home last night. Did you go on somewhere else with her first? You didn’t seem too drunk when you left.”
“I did not bring home a woman last night, I don’t even remember leaving the Dove.”
“Well you left with this hot blonde on your arm and a grin the size of the London Eye plastered across your face.”
“Shit. Really?”
“Yeah, hey where’s Will? He was on top form last night. Fucking funny guy, and boy can that kid drink. Wish I was his age again.”
“Dunno, not seen him – in his room I assume.”

Jeff went to knock on Will’s door. Will was Mike’s flatmate. It is true that Mike was a little too old to have a flatmate, but he liked having young students rent his spare room. It brought in some extra beer money, and it made Mike feel young, having some young friends.

“He’s not there. Must have got lucky too, must be something in the water in this flat. I’m gonna get me some of that, do you want some?” Jeff said as he went into the kitchen.

“Please” replied Mike. His head was still throbbing, and he was trying to piece together the few memories of the previous night. What did the blonde look like? Why had he got in this state. He was angry with himself. It had been ages since any woman had showed any interest in him, and now he couldn’t remember any of it. “Bollocks.” He said to himself.

Mike returned with two pints of water and put one in front of Mike on the coffee table. At that moment the buzzing started again.

“It’s ok, don’t strain yourself, I’ll get it.” Said Jeff walking across the room to the intercom.

“Hello, Mike’s place” said Jeff
“Is this the residence of William Johnson?” said a voice through the static
“Yes, but he’s not here.”
“We know, this is the Police, may we come in and ask you some questions.”

Half an hour later, the police left. Mike and Jeff sat on the sofa, trying to come to terms with the news that Will had been found dead, in an alleyway just two hundred yards away.